All That Remains
by uptightcrankyshadownet
Summary: Inspired by The Farewell Tour (Now You See Me) by Trillian Astra on ao3 and We Remain by Xtina (Catching Fire OST). Modern-day Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse AU. Nikita is Death, Birkhoff is Pestilence, Alex is War and Michael is Famine.


Overnight, every single website in the world is hacked into, from major social media sites to three-years-idle tumblr pages. People wake up finding themselves unable to access any functions on their sites. All they can do is sit and stare at the constantly looping video clip replacing all their online data.

_Now you see us. _

The world goes into chaos even before they strike, governments thrown into panic, people demanding answers. Nikita glances at Birkhoff with one eyebrow raised, and he shrugs. "I told you so."

"Predictable," Michael laughs, and it's a dark, bitter sound. Then they get moving.

They move soundlessly, leaving no trace of their presence except the aftermath they leave behind. They change their modus operandi with every place they touch. They circle the globe in seconds and pick each place they strike at random.

They exist, and yet they don't. Alex theorizes that they are higher powers, beings with supernatural abilities, like gods. Michael shakes his head and says they are just human, but maybe undead, special, enlightened, even. Birkhoff, ever-fond of his technology, says they are pure data and nothing more.

Nikita says nothing, because it doesn't matter. Not really.

In Shenzhen, Alex whispers little things in the ears of random strangers, inconsequential, petty, everyday matters that lead them to turn against each other- friends, lovers, family, colleagues, and so on. She infiltrates the offices of highly-ranked officials and makes them believe that the other side is the enemy- makes them forget there is no such thing as genuine collateral damage when it comes to human lives. Makes them forget about human life, overall. She sits back, watches them effortlessly slip into rage and mistrust. They all watch this civilized, peaceful society degenerate into violence and it escalates to a bloody, godforsaken bloodbath.

In Egypt, Michael starts from the bottom of the societal food chain. He opens the eyes of the poor and starving, shows them their empty begging bowls, empty pockets, and reminds them why they are starving, helpless, dying. The power of an oft-forgotten majority when they finally learn how to fight back is one that too many people belittle. And he talks to the privileged one percent, too, because who can forget that while some people are hungry for bread, others are hungry for power, for riches, for the world? Just a little nudge, and they're all falling all over themselves, giving up everything and anything just for that little more. The power of the _hungry _on both ends of the scale is something too many people forget, even though history has proved it is insurmountable over and over again.

In Anguilla, Birkhoff walks every street in a morning and leaves a wake of people sneezing, trembling even in the rays of the sun, leaning against pillars and throwing up a potpourri of blood, phlegm and their last meal. He spends his afternoon whistling outside a cafe, leeching on their free Wi-Fi and listening to the melody of hacking coughs and sickly groans from around him, mentally criticizing how people really never listen- nobody wears anything close to a mask to protect others from infection. He works on his trusty laptop, spreads an untraceable, unblockable computer virus to every IT device in the country- making both people and electronics sick to the core. They meet up again that night when every electronic device's fizzing out and every person's thrashing in their beds, dying from different medical afflictions. Birkhoff nods, and they move.

Nikita always watches from the sidelines, cleans up the carnage, ties up any loose ends. All of them come to her in the end, anyway, the terminus of their lives in her embrace. When Alex, Birkhoff and Michael are done with their jobs, every night, they come to her and gaze at her with the same question in her eyes. And every night, she nods, and replies them with the same answer they all wait to hear.

"It is done."

And then they move on. They never look back. There is never anything to look back on. They reach a destination. They touch it, and leave it bare. Leave it stripped of all that plagues it, and allows Nature and the powers that be to reclaim it once more. They breathe life back into a dying place and allow its heart to beat once more. And once they are finished, the cycle repeats.

They watch. They ride. They kill, they heal, they bury, they revive. They are the Four Horsemen.

Goodnight.


End file.
